GV 967 
.H5 
Copy 1 




MYRA BRADWELL HELMER 
INEZ LENORE KLUMPH 



.V'»!iSS^'«' i 



* 



■ ■ Illustrated ^y 
CLARENCE VOLLmER 




Class : — 

Book. ^4_1 

Gopyriglit]^^ 

COPYRIGHT DEPOSITS 



FATHER GANDER 







BY 



MYRA BRADWELL HELMER 
INEZ LENORE KLUMPH 



ILIiUSTEATIONS BY 
CLARENCE G-. VOLXiM:ER 



Sold for the Benefit of the Daily News 
Fresh Air Fund 



CHICAGO 
Chicago Legal News Company 

1909 



» • 



Copyright 1909 
By Chicago Legal News Co. 



SEP 27 1909 



^ 



X) 



^sbicatsb to 




There was an old farmer who lived in a slough, 
He had so many acres he didn't know what to do : 
He sowed and he ploughed without any avail, 
Until with a Golf Club he fixed up a sale. 

The oaths of its members are now loud and deep 
As they toil o'er the fields both rocky and steep. 
They drive and they brassy, they putt and they swear, 
But the farmer is gone! What availeth hot air! 




^ i^B ^xv^i ©ante of ©olf * 




A man he would a-golfing go, 
Whether his wife would let him or no. 
Heigho! says Bogey. 



So off he set with his clubs and balls 
And paved the way for domestic squalls. 
Heigho! says Bogey. 



4- pnk^ ^ ^ave ^lajseif ®n * 




HERE was a man in our club, 
And he had lots of gall; 
He drove into an apple tree 
And couldn't find his ball. 



He took his cli:^b and whacked the boughs, 

And broke off all the fruit; 
The farmer went and got his gun — 

And now he plays the flute! 



^ 



This is the way the ladies play 
When they are out on a tournament day: 
^* Fudge! Oh, mercy! Tush! Oh, dear!" 
What more gentle could one hear? 

This is the way the gentlemen play 

When they are out on a tournament day: 
****f *^*4fff *-5f*'}ffn ***'3fn!f 

On thinking it over I sadly fear 
'Tis not for me to insult the ear! 



^ pltj ^e^t ^coxe^ * 





This is the cup that Jack won. 



This is the score 

That gained the cup that Jack won. 

This is the ball 
^^^^^^^ That made the score 

That gained the cup that Jack won. 

These are the clubs 

That hit the ball 

That made the score 

That gained the cup that Jack won. 

This IS the caddy who carried the clubs 
That hit the ball 
That made the score 
^^ That gained the cup that Jack won. 

This is the farmer who chased the caddy 

Who carried the clubs vf?-"'^"^ 

That hit the ball 

That made the score 

That gained the cup that Jack won. 






^ plB ^^^t ^C0ve^ ^ 





This is the maiden all forlorn, 

Niece of the farmer in the corn 

Who chased the caddy 

Who carried the clubs 
That hit the ball 
That made the score 
That gained the cup that Jack won. 

This is the golfer, tired and worn, 
Who kissed the maiden all forlorn. 
Niece of the farmer in the corn 
Who chased the caddy 

Who carried the clubs 

That hit the ball 

That made the score 

That gained the cup that Jack won. 

This is the wife left home to mourn, 
Spouse of the golfer, tired and worn. 
Who kissed the maiden all forlorn. 
Niece of the farmer in the corn 

Who chased the caddy 

Who carried the clubs 

That hit the ball 

That made the score 

That gained the cup that Jack won. 




^ plB ^^^t ^C0ve& -¥ 




This is the old cat who raised a storm 
By telHng the wife, left home to mourn, 
Spouse of the golfer, tired and worn. 
Who kissed the maiden all forlorn, 

Niece of the farmer in the corn 

Who chased the caddy 

Who carried the clubs 

That hit the ball 

That made the score 

That gained the cup that Jack won. 

This is Colonel Bogey, shaven and shorn, 
Who beat the old cat who raised a storm 
By telling the wife, left home to mourn. 
Spouse of the golfer, tired and worn. 

Who kissed the maiden all forlorn. 

Niece of the farmer in the corn 

V/ho chased the caddy 

Who carried the clubs 

That hit the ball 

That made the score 

That gained the cup that Jack won. 




^ ^rif^^ ^ ^ave ^on ^ 




ING a song of tariiEf, 

Senate's on the green, 
Taft, with mighty nibHck, 
From the bunker's seen. 

When the club descends 
The ball begins to roll; 

Isn't that a pretty shot 
To put into the hole? 



The North wind doth blow, 

And we shall have snow; 

And what will the golfer do then? 

lie will go to his club. 

Poor, foolish, old dub, 

And talk of his game; 
What a shame! 



I'll tell you a story about my game, 
And now my story's begun; 

I'll tell you another about the same, 
And that will never be done. 



* ^ulr^^gatr^ ^latjebrplttit * 




I had a bag of golf clubs 

And they were bright and clean, 
I lent them to a lady friend, 

Who was so very green 
She bent them and she broke them. 

She dragged them in the mire — 
I would not lend my clubs again 

For all the lady's hire. 




^ ^B ^ctnhicap ^ 




I diddle dunker, my ball's in a bunker, 
I wish 'twould go over soon, 
But my niblick is broke, I'm all of a soak 
Trying to get out with a spoon. 



««5 



Old Mr. Dunker stood in a bunker, 
Soling his club in the sand. 

Along came a caddy 

Who yelled, ''Hi, there, Daddy, 
If you do that you're sure to get canned! " 



^i^ 



Dang! Dang!! Daughter, 
Ball's in the water! 
Who put it m} Daddy! 
Who pulled it out.? Caddy! 




^ ^eb S^etUv ^ajj^ ^ 




#► ^eif getter gay^ ^ 




Although at golf Pm not a shark, 

Yet when I reach the nineteenth hole 

I come in strong and win the cup ; 
The cup — it is a flowing bowl. 




^ PlB ®lwlr^ * 







Golfing laddy met a caddy, 

Playing with his only spoon; 
Said golfing laddy to the caddy, 

^' Young brat, I'll make you see the moon! " 



4i5 



There was a crooked man 
Who played a crooked game, 

And every putt he made 
Was with a crooked aim. 



He bought a crooked mashie. 
And used a crooked cleek; 

He wobbled when he brassied, 
And shot a crooked streak! 



^ Pla ^InbtnaU^ ^ 







There was a young lady from Boise 
Who always was making a noise 
About getting thin — 
Said golf she'd begin — 
Then farewell to avoirdupois! 



4- ^nap^ljot^ -^ 




See the man upon the Hnks, 
He is silent as the Sphinx; 

His brassey sHps, 

The turf he chps — 
He tells the Lord just what he thinks. 



^ ^nap^ljot^ ^ 




Mary and John have lost their ball, 
But, bless you, they don't mind it. 

They sit behind a bunker and spoon, 
While the caddy goes to find it. 




4- ^nap^lfot^ * 




He was a model lover. 

Until he saw her play; 
She couldn't hit a blooming thing, 

Except a load of hay. 
He straightway lost his love for her, 

He loves a bogey score — 
No cupid's darts for him, anon; 

He'd rather holler ^' Fore!" 



4^ ^iipping^^ * 




Caddy, oh! Caddy! I'm all forlorn, 
My ball's in the meadow, perhaps in the corn. 
Come help me find it; for, should I lose, 
'T will cost me the hole and also the booze! 



4^ ^lipping^^ •* 




Col. Bogey went for a stogie 
To quench the champion's ire; 

When he found there was none 

'T was really no fun — 

The outlook for him was dire! 




^^ ©lipp^ings^ -¥ 




Jack and Jill went up the hill 

A-playing in a foursome; 
Jack fell down and broke his crown; 

Jill said, '"T will swell our score some!" 



''John, come sell your golf sticks, 
And buy your wife a gown; 

''No! ni not sell my golf sticks 
For e'er a wife in town!" 



Peter Putter, record player, 
Had a wife who used to swear; 
Though Pete broke records everywhere 
He couldn't match his wife's hot air. 



^xxioQxaplj^ 




ILLY used the baby's head 
For a golf ball — baby's dead. 
Mamma said, "Oh, what a shame! 
I fear that Willy's off his game!" 



Willy on the course one day, 
Thought that he would like to play, 
Hit his grandpa with a club; 
Grandpa said, "Aye, there's the rub! " 

Little Willy on the green, 

Turned to hear a man yell "Fore." 
"What," said Willy, " Can he mean .? " 

Now little Willy is no more ! 



^^ 



Bye, baby dolphin. 
Daddy's gone a-goliin' 
To win a little silver cup 
To cheer his baby dolphin up! 



4- ^i^cellaneon^ ^ 




OOR little Paul has lost his ball, 
And can't tell where to find it; 
Leave it alone and it'll come home 
Hid in the caddy's pocket. 



Bogey, Bogey, queer old fogy, 
How goes the game to-day? 

With pulls and flubs 

And awful dubs 
I'm really scared to play. 



Little ball, little ball, 
Fly over the green, 

But be sure to land 

Where you can be seen. 



«^ 



Jack Spratt would always pull, 
His wife would always slice — 

They zigzagged back and forth, you see; 
Their score it was not nice. 



-^ 



x^ceHaneon^ 



^ 



ff^/^'frfr*"] M^^' 




Here's to the man with club in hand, 
Here's to the king of bogey land; 
Here's to the clubs with outlandish names, 
And here's to GOLF, the game of games! 




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